


Final thoughts in prison

by broken_bottles_bouncing



Series: Dream's suicide [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Depression, Graphic Description, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:42:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29507784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/broken_bottles_bouncing/pseuds/broken_bottles_bouncing
Summary: Dream has his final thoughts in his cell, on his bed. (Vent fic)THIS HAS A VERY GRAPHIC SUICIDE SCENE. HE DIES. DO NOT READ IT IF YOU'RE NOT OK WITH IT.
Series: Dream's suicide [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2168496
Kudos: 20





	Final thoughts in prison

It didn’t really matter. Dream stared at the giant black obsidian walls mocking him, surrounding him. A single block of water and a couple other things now he was in prison. It was the same sight as always, and people visiting him only came here to scream at him or mock him. His ears are now adjusted to the dipping of water or the sound of footsteps nearby. Despite his height, he slumped down making him shorter than he actually was, blonde hair and green eyes fading by the day. Once confident puffed out chest was bashed in. He sat on his bed. It was nice. It had pillows and a blanket, really a luxury he had been given recently. He lay down on it, curling up in it, it was all too much. From the jacket pocket he retrieved a blade, flipping it between his fingers and playing with it a little. He could almost hear the shock in people’s voices, their reactions and-

No matter. It didn’t matter anymore.

Laying sideways, he plunged the blade into his neck, allowing the blood to spurt out onto his hands. Warm. Red. Sensations he hadn’t experienced in a while. Pain. Normal. Continue. He dragged it across his throat, allowing more and more to gush out horrendously like a flood as he began to choke on the lack of air and excess of blood. He was convulsing by now, not being able to breathe properly and losing blood in his throat, his bedsheets were an oozing crimson red as it took over his hands, the blade stuck in his throat as his eyes shook in his skull, desperate to try to find anything they could look at without loosing focus. The scent of metal was overwhelming in the room. If someone were to enter it they’d see a dark shiny liquid on the wall close to the bed, the bed becoming damp with crimson and Dream spazzing on it, leaking more and more precious blood. It was horrible, seeing pain everything in his mind was telling him to stop. Stop it. Stop it now. It did stop, he stopped moving, the blood still dripping. No more dream, just a hanging air of disappointment.


End file.
